Chapter 9.

The exchange of explanations took the rest of that afternoon. While the unicorn and the pooka horse grazed, Kaulder let Helene Frisson go first. Partly, out of old-fashioned chivalry; partly, so he could get a read on when and where she was from. Consequently, he found himself partially surprised by her account. Rightly judging, by the slight difference in details as he remembered them, that she must have come from a parallel-Earth. He even said as much.

"That's why you look so familiar. The silver swords; the red-hooded riding cloak. You're one of the Sisters of Gabrielle. A werewolf huntress!"

"Among other things, oui. What of you, m'sieur?"

Two hours later, he summarized it, this way.

"We rode out of Myth Draenor, at full gallop, and now here we are."

"Zounds!" exclaimed Logar Ythm. "Most anyone else would find those tales incredulous, Sir Kaulder. But, if there is one ballad known to every bard throughout the Three Kingdoms, it's 'The Fall of Yawgmoth'. The climactic battle against him was fought at Myth Draenor! And, 'tis said that the only reason his decapitation succeeded was due to the handle of Gar Y'gyg's Ax being bejeweled with… all three of the Silmarils."

The last witch hunter carefully examined the weapon in question as he hefted it.

"If that's the case," he replied, "how did Glordelia get hold of them? Assuming they were ever interred with Gar Y'gyg, and the rest of his worldly possessions, in the first place."

"Aye! That's a puzzler, indeed. For the anti-desecration wards of elfin tombs are powerful magicks, in their own right!"

"Another good question," continued Kaulder, "is why these gnolls were after you? Assuming they were targeting you for more than just lunch."

"They were not," Helene interjected, looking at the gaping jaws painted in blood-red upon one of the round shields. "This pack belonged to the Redfang Clan. Malarite mercenaries who sell their swords to the highest bidder!"

She then gasped as the realization hit her. "By Ste. Valerie! How could I possibly know that, when I had not even heard the word 'gnoll,' before today?"

The dwarf bard shook his head. "I don't know, milady. But, I think I can answer the second question. At the risk of sounding boastful, I'm fairly well-known to have been an entertainer at the camp fires of some of the greatest adventurers in Faerun! I just didn't learn, till recently, that my reputation had preceded me to Pylea."

"Really?" said Kaulder. "How so?"

"Last week, I was hired by an emissary, from Glordelia, to perform at the reception that will follow Her Majesty's wedding, later this week, to her chosen champion: Sir Groosalug!"

Kaulder nodded. "Now, it makes sense. Somebody hired these gnolls to kill you and your armed escort so that they could go to Pylea in your place. Because, as the featured entertainer-"

"-they might get close enough to Glordelia to kill her and steal the Silmarils for themselves!" exclaimed the dwarf bard.

"Oui, messieurs," affirmed Helene. "But, that raises still another question! Tell me, Logar. Were you the only non-Krug among this company?"

Logar shook his head, again. "Nay! There was also their human commander... and Glordelia's emissary!"

Kaulder quickly spun himself about. "I don't see any well-dressed corpses. Do you?"

The other two shook their heads in perfect unison before Kaulder remarked, "We better start riding for Baldur's Gate. Hard and fast!"

Whereupon, they rode off in a cloud of dust, veritably neck and neck. Kaulder atop the unicorn Dobin Goodfellow; and his two new allies atop the pooka horse Coucou.

SOMEWHERE IN MANHATTAN'S CHINATOWN

NEW YORK, NEW YORK (MAR. 27, 2014)

Amal Gam took yet another sip of her tea as she finished explaining to Dolan 36 what had happened.

"I managed to astral project, just before total unconsciousness. That's why I was able to see that Kaulder was abducted by a phase spider!"

"A phase spider?" echoed the Cockney-born priest.

"That is why I have been unable to locate Kaulder through scrying," she explained. "Phase spiders are one of the few creatures, in the whole multiverse, that can teleport _interdimensionally_ under their own power! Even human mages cannot do that. That is why they must journey to places of leyline convergence such as-"

"-the Leng Plateau in northwestern Myanmar?" Dolan finished for her. "Yes, dearie, I know. That's where Dolan 34 bought the farm!"

The condescending smile that accompanied his somewhat melodramatic whisper was cancelled out by the angry glare preceding her sharp rebuke.

"You might be more pious than your twin brother. But, you are definitely just as smug!"

"Sorry, love. I'm just worried, is all. I mean, I can't very well perform my usual duties of aiding and supporting him if he's not even in the same universe anymore!"

"We might be able to help you with that," replied a new and somewhat younger female voice.

MEANWHILE, BACK ON ZEIST. . .

They reached the village of Stonebridge by sunset. And, needless to say, Kaulder and Dobin's appearance caused quite a stir. Although, not as much as Logar did when people beheld the brown leather bag in which the dwarf bard carried his musical instrument. Apparently, the emblem sewn upon it, in white thread -a lyre in between the pointed tips of a crescent moon- was more-than-familiar to the general public.

"Maybe he wasn't idly boasting about his fame," the witch hunter thought to himself.

Then, he took another look at Helene Frisson. There was something more-than-familiar about her as well. Something beyond her outfit. It was another minute or two before it occurred to him.

"The two women Rayne abducted from the restaurant. She's a dead ringer for both of them!"

He was snapped out of his reverie, however, when he heard the village's head man speak up.

"No, sir. We've seen no armored gentlemen come through here, other than your friend, the paladin. And I would definitely remember the other one you described!"

Apparently, Glordelia's emissary had been some kind of wizard locally known as a "redspawn arcanist". In any event, the dwarf thanked everyone for their time and hospitality. Following which, he told them to carefully stand aside. Advice they heeded the moment Coucou, the black fae-stallion, reared on his hind leg and whinnied. All before taking off in another cloud of dust! Though, not to the extent that he caught the purple unicorn unaware.

"How long before we reach the city limits of Baldur's Gate?" he was forced to shout into Dobin's left ear.

"Just before sunset," replied the latter. "It's there I'll have to take m' leave of you. The Knights of the Flaming Fist do the best they can to maintain law and order there. But, there are still a great many unscrupulous individuals in residence who wouldn't think twice about having the lot of us killed just to get hold of m' alicorn."

"Then, how are we supposed to find that suitable ship and crew you claim we need for the trip to Pylea?" demanded Kaulder.

"Ask about at the Gray Hawk Inn. It's the most popular watering hole among the sea-dogs who frequent this port!"

Dobin proved correct. By sunset, they were on a hill overlooking the city's southern land-side entrance. Whereupon, Dobin wished them all the best of luck before turning around and running back south towards his beloved Faerun.

tbc

Author's Notes:

Malarite: of or pertaining to worshipers of Malar the Beastlord (god of evil lycanthropes).